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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882607">The Ballad of Nomad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/himbos'>himbos (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Western, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Drugging, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:20:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/himbos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Old West, Steve Rogers, who moonlights as the vigilante Nomad, and his lover, Tony Stark, make a stop in the town of Extremis. Little did they know, trouble awaited.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Stony Loves Steve 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Ballad of Nomad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/daiquiri21/gifts">daiquiri21</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a fun little cowboy AU for the Stony Loves Steve exchange. My girlfriend was my beta reader as well as helped me write some parts so thank you to her!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was exactly 3:49 PM when the two men arrived in the town of Extremis. Steve Rogers, a polite yet plucky artist, spent their entire journey sketching the sights and occasionally sneaking in a sketch of his dramatic partner, Tony Stark. Tony sat in front of him, worrying at the fabric of his cuffs, biting his nails, and tapping his fingers along his thigh. They’d been together just long enough for Steve to be able to tell the difference between nervous fidgeting and boredom fidgeting, and he’d reckon from the way Tony looked lost in thought, mindlessly switching the way he rhythmically played with his own body or his surroundings, that his nerves were getting the better of him.</p><p> </p><p>Even with this insight, our Steve was not immune to annoyance. He paused his sketching to look up at the man in front of him, waiting exactly for their eyes to meet. When the other man noticed, he shot false daggers back.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t look at me like that.” He said, indignant.</p><p> </p><p>Steve smirked. “Like what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like <em> that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve’s face didn’t change. Tony threw his hands up.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now Rogers, when have you ever known me to be nervous?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Many times</em>, Steve thought, but didn’t say, because he’d rather finish shading the sketches of the trees they’d passed. He had to admit, it was unusual for the other to be nervous about meeting with investors, but neither of them were usual men.</p><p> </p><p>As he sketched, Tony grabbed his pen away. Steve made a noise of agitation, but Tony, mischievous as ever, only reveled in it.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s for saying I’m nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>As Tony said that, Happy parked the stagecoach.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>The saloon was bustling, all kinds of people chattering about, playing cards, and putting their hands where they probably shouldn’t be. The bartender, William, a figure from Tony’s childhood, recognized them, and turned to address the patrons (“Hey, Stark’s boy is here! Show some respect ya vermin!”) At that, the room is filled with boisterous cheers. Some men clear a table for the two to sit at and Tony, because he’s Tony, declares drinks on him.</p><p> </p><p>Steve, however, decided to help Happy bring their items in up to their room because he’s Steve, and even if there were only two bags, he’d insist on taking one. It was equal parts charming as it was annoying. </p><p> </p><p>When Steve returned, he ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and sought out Tony to join him in conversing with whatever folks he’d decided to entertain for the day. He found his lover sitting at a round table near the middle of the floor, surrounded by all kinds of fellas and ladies, center of attention as expected. Then, there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Tony’s jumping to give whatever fella it was a piece of his mind. When he actually got a good look at the man, he paused like a deer in headlights.</p><p> </p><p>Steve hadn’t the slightest clue who the man was, but he was dressed up in an all black suit, black boots and hat to match. The man looked like death himself coming to give Tony to God. Steve was worried, but he opted to stand back and continue downing his drink, watching on with unwavering eyes. <em> Tony can take care of himself</em>, he reminds himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Been some time since you came around here, boy. Was worried you up and died.”</p><p> </p><p>“Being a businessman is rather time consuming.”</p><p> </p><p>The man’s smile was far from kind, bordering devilish.</p><p> </p><p>They shook hands, had a brief conversation, Tony’s discomfort prevalent, and like that the man was off, tipping his hat before making his way out the door. Steve made no plan to further Tony’s discomfort by bringing it up in front of his party, but questions about the interaction were definitely bookmarked for another time.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>Later, they’re in their room above the bar. A room they hadn’t even had to pay for. Being Tony’s lover was quite curious for Steve, who was on his own before he even reached sixteen, nothing to his name but a few dollars and the clothes on his back. He hadn’t known the many kindnesses that Tony had, from all the people tripping over their own boots just to greet him, to being handed a room <em> for free </em>, despite having the means to compensate not only William for their room, but every saloon owner for everyone’s room from every town they’d passed through and would be passing through as they made their way to their destination. It was eye opening to know there were people that didn’t have to fight their way through the days and actually had some comfort coming up in the unforgiving conditions of the West. Even if Steve was one of those people, now, he’d never forget when he wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>At 20, he’d met Tony during one of his father’s weapon presentations. The townspeople <em> ooo’d </em> and <em> aah’d </em>at every display, but Steve’s eyes kept finding themselves on the face of his handsome son. It wasn’t the first time Steve had had feelings for another fella, nor did he feel any which way about it. Drifting from town to town, he’d seen all kinds of different folks with different lives, and done all kinds of things just to get food on the table. He had no room to judge and too much life experience to bother, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Their first conversation was right after the presentation completed. Steve had gotten lost in thought, sketching the delicate features of the older man, when he heard a voice from behind.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re awfully good at that, although, I think my nose could be smaller.” Steve, having been stolen from and assaulted from behind a myriad of times, jumped up from his seat, fists up and feet planted firmly in the dirt. He was a scrappy, dirty thing then. Besides his art, the only thing he had going for him was his fists and audaciousness. Tony wasn’t looking for a fight, though, and he motioned his hands the same way you would to calm an angry dog down. “Woah there, was just complimenting your work s’all. Trust me, I don’t need your money.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve put his arms down, but he was far from relaxed. His pre-fight adrenaline simply switched over to talking-to-a-handsome-man adrenaline, and he turned as crimson as a freshly plucked apple.</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of that night, they discussed Howard’s inventions, Tony’s own work, Steve’s work and his ability to tell real art from fakes. They kissed for the first time that night and were inseparable since.</p><p> </p><p>Now, the two of them were going ten years strong, both their families long dead, travelling the countryside, meeting with investors and selling Steve’s art, more money than Steve ever had in his pockets and more companionship than Tony’d ever known.</p><p> </p><p>They were making their ways to bed now, Tony already half asleep as he situated himself under the covers, but Steve’s curiosity overtook him.</p><p> </p><p>“Who was that man earlier?”</p><p> </p><p>“Which one?”</p><p> </p><p>“The bald fella, dressed up in all black.” <em> With a face like a snake, </em> he left out.</p><p> </p><p>Tony groaned. “My old mentor, Obadiah Stane.” </p><p> </p><p>Steve’d heard of the man, but not much. Now he knew why.</p><p> </p><p>“I reckon that was why you were so nervous on the road?”</p><p> </p><p>Tony made an offended noise. “I wasn’t nervous. Who said I was nervous?”</p><p> </p><p>Steve just rolled his eyes and leaned down to give Tony a kiss. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait—did I say I wasn’t nervous? I lied, I’m extremely nervous. I’m shaking in my boots. I need a couple more kisses to calm me down.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve couldn’t stop himself from letting out a hearty laugh, “You’re ridiculous.” With that, he pulled Tony in for another, more intense kiss.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>At exactly midnight, Nomad rose. </p><p> </p><p>He dressed up in all white, white hat, white shoes, and white bandana around his mouth to match. His guns sat snug in their holsters, and just as he was opening the balcony door to make his exit, Tony rose, too. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’d argue, but it won’t stop you.”</p><p> </p><p>Nomad said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun, Nomad.” With that, Tony fell back against the bed rather passive aggressively. Steve—No, Nomad, waited for the soft sound of Tony’s snores before continuing his descent out the door, over the balcony, and down the poles, boots meeting the dry dirt. </p><p> </p><p>Another conversation they had the night they first met was on the concept of “justice”, who gets it and who doesn’t. Steve had seen many men hanged, some for just reasons and others... Well, others just made him angry. So angry he could yell, could fight everyone in that courtroom or in the town square, watching as innocent men died solely because man, not God, made it so. He had many sleepless nights, many nightmares about the horrors he’d witnessed, the way so many had been failed, how cruel the world could be. The worst part was realizing—truly realizing—that those in power were often part of that cruelty. It always stayed with him, the feeling of powerlessness at each encounter, he couldn’t sit by watching the injustice, something had to give.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when he created Nomad, an outlaw in all white who existed outside the law, the only authority over him being the will of God and a never ending hunger for justice. He didn’t call himself that, an old man he’d saved from three bandits said the name during a game of poker. “A man dressed up in all white. Could’a swore he was some sorta guardian angel sent by the Lord himself, I could. He ain’t from round here, no way, no how, had to’a been some kind ‘a nomad.” From then on it just stuck.</p><p> </p><p>Him and Tony had many arguments about the subject, but Steve always felt that Tony was more concerned for his safety than necessary. </p><p> </p><p>Vigilantism isn’t fun, despite what many may believe. It’s a lot of creeping through the night on Dummy (Tony’s choice in name), watching over the townsfolk to make sure no ne'er-do-wells are scoping the place, looking for their next victim. More times than not, Nomad returns home having not caught a single criminal in the act and as the deep, dark blue of the night faded into the brilliant orange of dawn, Nomad figured he was done.</p><p> </p><p>As he headed back, his thoughts wandered yet again to Tony and Stane. In hindsight, leaving Tony alone with such a conniving man (with a vendetta, no less) running about was probably not the brightest idea, but Tony knew how to handle himself.</p><p> </p><p>He crawls in next to Tony and drifts off into sleep.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, he’s woken up by a kiss from an eager Tony, happily chomping away on some eggs. He sits up on the bed, wiping the sleep out of his eyes to examine the plate to his left. There were eggs, sausages and hash browns, neatly presented for him. It was more of that kindness always afforded to the wealthy.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’d this come from?”</p><p> </p><p>“I made it! By that I mean one of the girls brought it up for us. William said it’s on the house.” Some of his words are muffled by his inelegant chewing. It was a kind gesture, but Steve wasn’t one to eat food from strangers usually, even kind one’s that’d known Tony since he was two feet tall, so he let Tony have his plate, eating some food from the road.</p><p> </p><p>The day was pretty slow, they freshened up, went over their pitch, Tony tinkered, Steve sketched, and spent time at the bar. They were leaving the next day, so they’d also done a little shopping for the road. Around dinner time, another young lady brought them two more plates, this time it was just chili with a side of cornbread. </p><p> </p><p>Steve couldn’t resist eating this round, the food from the road wasn’t sufficient, and it’d been a long time since he’d had a home cooked meal. It wasn’t too long before they had  both finished, and drifted off to sleep once again.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>He woke up well past midnight to an empty room, no Tony next to him, nor a trace of their items around the room.</p><p> </p><p>He’s out of bed like he’s on fire, running around the room, looking for any sign of the other man. <em> Maybe he couldn’t sleep, packed early, and went for a walk. He can take care of himself. </em>Except, no traces at all? No note? No good morning kiss? There was no way.</p><p> </p><p>There was no question that Tony was taken, the question was who took him.</p><p> </p><p>The only clothing Steve had left was his outfit for Nomad, which he hadn’t packed with the expectation he would’ve been going out that night. Except, he hadn’t gone out, slept right through it, despite training himself to wake up at 12 AM every night. As he dressed, the realization dawned on him, <em> we were drugged. </em>Explained all the “kindness.”</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>Nomad kicked through the doors of the saloon, one track minded and guns in hand. William, who’d been shining off the bar counter just before, put his hands up in surrender upon seeing the loaded weapons.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me where Stark is.” Nomad demands.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I-I don’t know! I swear!” </p><p> </p><p>“Stop lying! I know you drugged u—him and his partner. Now he’s missing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Coincidence?”</p><p> </p><p>Nomad shot the bottles next to William’s head and the man’s soul nearly exited his body right there. He had no intention of killing the man, but he didn’t have time to waste.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay, okay! Obadiah Stane made me do it! Said he’d have his boys burn my place to a crisp if I didn’t help! It’s my livelihood, I couldn’t let’em, you gotta understand!”</p><p> </p><p>Steve shot another group of bottles on the opposite side, “None of that sounds like a location.” William jumps again, somehow even more shaken.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know exactly where they’re headed, but I overheard Stane talkin’ about Stark’s childhood home! It’s a pretty known place ‘round here now! East, just outside the town, big beautiful place, couldn’t miss it!”</p><p> </p><p>With that information, Steve made his way toward the exit, but just before making it out, he turned back to William, “You better hope Tony’s still above snakes or you’ll be worried about something fiercer than a couple’a goons burning your place down.”</p><p> </p><p>“W-What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Me.”</p><p> </p><p>Not another word was exchanged.</p><p> </p><p>x x x</p><p> </p><p>The old Stark Manor, just outside of Extremis, was surrounded by a giant gate and a gorgeous lawn. Steve’s own childhood home was a dingy little thing his father built himself when him and Steve’s mother had made it over from Ireland. They wanted a new life here and they’d gotten it alright. One full of roaches and thieves and dry crops. It was always a shock to contrast just how differently the two lived.</p><p> </p><p>Nomad reined in Dummy, scoping the area for any signs of people. He saw two men standing watch in front of the large gates. A smarter, less impulsive, more strategic man would’ve seen the two armed goons, and decided to use his stealth or wits to find his way inside. Nomad could be those things, but in this moment he was not, and went straight towards them on Dummy, letting out shots immediately.</p><p> </p><p>Dummy knocked the men over, and Nomad jumped from his back, rolling over into the lawn. He jumped up, and made his way for the doors, no questions asked. Bullets flew in every direction, but Nomad still managed to make quick work through Obadiah’s goons. It wasn’t the first time he had to fight more than one man at one time, not to mention he’d had to do it much scrawnier in the past. </p><p> </p><p>He broke in the door to find Obadiah standing over a flushed Tony. Tony’s tied to a chair and gagged, clear bruises on his face, most likely from being hit after refusing. Steve sees red, rushing after Obadiah with everything he has. That is, until Obadiah pulled out his own pistol—aiming it at Tony—and Nomad’s blood ran cold.</p><p> </p><p>“Take one step closer and the man meets his maker!”</p><p> </p><p>Not willing to risk it, Nomad held his ground but obeyed the command, keeping his gun trained on Obadiah.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m taking what I’m owed. All I wanted when Howard died was a portion, a measly percent, but now I’m taking everything. All he needs to do is sign the company over to me and we’ll all be on our merry way.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s their hard earned cash, he doesn’t owe you a single cent, Stane.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes he does and I’ll get every last penny outta him. Even if I have to beat your friend here ‘til he’s black and blue to get’em.”</p><p> </p><p>That was the final straw, Nomad aimed for Obadiah’s leg, but nothing came from the gun. He thought back to the fight, he’d used up all his bullets on the goons, and now he was facing down Tomy’s captor with nothing. Obadiah saw his moment of confusion as an opening and shot back. </p><p> </p><p>Nomad fell to the ground, clutching at his calf. Blood pooled out, painting the white pants a worrying red. He had to get up, he couldn’t fail Tony. All the vigilantism, all the saving others and spiels about justice, he had to move, he had to—</p><p> </p><p>Except, moments later Tony was free from his restraints, charging Obadiah. It was a series of luck, Tony and Obadiah were both on the ground, fighting for the gun. Tony managed to get on top, getting one, two, three good punches in before Obadiah too winded to move.</p><p> </p><p>Chest heaving from the exertion, Tony grabbed the gun and shot Obadiah once between the eyes. He tossed the gun away and immediately looked over to the fallen vigilante. Tony ran over to Steve wrapping his cravat around Steve’s leg to put pressure on the wound.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t the slightest idea how we got out of that and I’m not gonna question it.” Tony said, adrenaline still going, but a tinge of relief there, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” a hiss of pain as Tony flung Steve’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to stand, “thought we were goners. How’d you get outta the ropes, though?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Tony pulled out a pen from a hidden pocket in his pajamas. “Never gave you your pen back. Came in handy.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a strange thing, so much time spent fighting all kinds of bad men, never having killed, and yet Tony had taken Obadiah out with no hesitation. <em> Tony can take care of himself, </em> the phrase echoed in Steve’s mind. He’d constantly said it to himself as a reminder that his partner didn’t need saving, but it never rang truer than in that moment, Tony helping him limp out of his old home, sunshine beaming down on their triumph. Maybe Steve wasn’t the guardian he thought he was, maybe sometimes he’d need the saving.</p>
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